Give Credit Where Credit Is Due; Replace "Silent Sam" with a Memorial to Dean Smith

Despite the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's reputation as a liberal/progressive mecca (Jesse Helms frequently referred to it as the "University of Negroes and Communists"), there is a gigantic racist elephant in the room that only enters the public discourse once or twice every few years. The outrage is usually focused at Silent Sam, a memorial to Confederate casualties of the Civil War that is arguably the most prominently placed monument on campus. I don't necessarily disagree with installations honoring Confederate veterans/casualties (if within reason/tastefully located) because as the costliest (in terms of total casualties) conflict in our nation's history, the Civil War shouldn't be forgotten no matter how deplorable one side's beliefs may have been. What I do have a problem with however, is how monuments to the Confederacy come to be. For example, Silent Sam was primarily funded by the United Daughters of the Confederacy, a lovely little group of ladies masquerading as descendants of the Southern aristocracy. They are the group that argues for institutions' right to display the Rebel Cross, raises money for Confederate monuments/memorials, and engages in many other forms of historical revisionism that intend to replace facts with their fairy tale version of the Civil War. 

****If you are from the South, you can probably skip ahead to the solution. If you're a "Northerner", here's a brief explanation (from my perspective) of race/class dynamics in the South.****

Why? Because the whole "heritage not hate" thing is a way for southern whites to comfort themselves over the fact that black people are also, in fact, people. It's also a form of self-denial. It's a desperate last grasp to stay on top. I realize that as a direct descendent of a Confederate general and owners of a large South Carolina cotton plantation (that yes, owned many slaves), my critique may seem classist. Probably because it is; why else would you take pride in being a loser unless you literally had nothing else to be proud about? The true "Southern gentleman" would graciously concede defeat and follow with some serious introspection about the value (or lack-thereof) of their own beliefs, not continue to beat a dead fucking horse for over a century. 

So why would people not just give up on it after a while? Well, it lies within the inherent disingenuousness of a lot of Confederate revisionists. Want to know a great part about the Civil War? If you were a poor white person that owned neither land nor slaves, the complete societal breakdown that occurred during wartime and Reconstruction afterward gave you a chance to reinvent yourself, even if that new start wasn't entirely true. "See that empty plantation house over there? Used to be mine, but them damn Federal Occupiers gave it away." During Reconstruction, uneducated whites were pretty much unaffected because they didn't have any assets to lose (whiteness can't be taken away, but its power in society can be eroded). Many formerly wealthy landowners lost everything. But since those landowners were educated (most of the time), they went off and did something else to earn their livelihood and lived happily ever after. In fact, the destruction of the slave-based economy allowed for a great level of diversification in enterprise that is still continuing in the South today. The antebellum south was very much defined by its rigid social strata. At the bottom were slaves, at the top were the landowners (who many times were also the most prolific slaveowners as well), and just barely above slaves in the pyramid were all the uneducated white people (think the Ewells in To Kill a Mockingbird). Too poor to own land or slaves, the only thing that gave them any sort of position was their whiteness. This is how absurd the whole system was. In the aftermath of the Civil War, all the white-trash peons just hung on to this idealized picture of the antebellum south, and in many cases (falsely) reclaimed it. That was quite the digression, but that's how you get membership in an organization such as the UDC.

Back to UNC. Many buildings and public art installations on campus have drawn scrutiny. A few are considered here. But think about this; Silent Sam was funded and promoted by an organization who's only gift to the University was the statue itself. What did all those soldiers who died contribute to the University? Probably next to nothing. At most, their impact on UNC wouldn't have been any different than any other student who has ever attended there. Is the University any different because of what they did? No, not really. So this is a monument for sake of having a monument. I understand the historical significance, so it shouldn't be removed entirely. However, giving prime real estate to a monument recognizing negligible contributions towards the community doesn't make sense.

SOLUTION:

There is a lot of disagreement about what UNC should do about its racist history. Yes, buildings should be renamed. But plaques should be installed in a very visible location detailing the building's former name and the controversy surrounding it. That's easy.

In an effort to compromise, some people have suggested that UNC keep Silent Sam and just put a plaque explaining the controversy next to it. Yeah, good idea. But stick that shit down on South Campus where nothing matters.

Dean Smith passed away last night at age 83 following a decade-long battle with dementia. When I lived in Chapel Hill, any time I would pass by the Old Well and saw news vans congregated, I was afraid they were there because Coach Smith passed away. So I would quickly check Twitter to make sure he was still with us. I found out early this morning. Dementia is a terrible condition. I saw it destroy my grandmother. It takes away so much of what makes a person special until there is nothing left. 

Coach Smith deserves a tribute proportional to his contribution to the University and the State of North Carolina. Besides almost singlehandedly transforming the Carolina basketball program into what we know today, Smith was a staunch advocate for social equality and progressive causes during his time in the public eye. He brought Charlie Scott to Carolina, silencing the critics and helping to accelerate desegregation in Chapel Hill. He called Governor Jim Black a murderer to his face.

Dean Smith's legacy is the foundation on which the Carolina community is built. Let's recognize it appropriately with a monument/memorial in the center of McCorkle Place.

Everyone Is Completely Missing the Point of American Sniper

Disclaimer: I have read the 2012 book on which the film American Sniper is based upon, but it has been a couple years. Forgive me in advance if I don't remember parts of the book perfectly, especially since the movie took quite a few creative liberties with the memoir's narrative in order to provide a more compelling story on screen. That being said, I might only reference the book once, because this piece is meant to focus on the movie. It's also worth noting that I wrote this in a few different sittings over the past few days. Also, SPOILER ALERT.

A lot of the American Sniper reviews I've read recently have left me with two questions: a) "did we see the same movie?" and b) "does this person know anything about film criticism?". The majority were negative reviews, with the author citing the perceived "pro-war" message of the film. American Sniper features a lot of ultra-patriotic moments; it emotionally guts you, completely bypassing any ideological disagreements you might hold about US involvement in Iraq/Afghanistan because "right" or "left" does not matter here- we're all Americans, and these brave men and women are dying to defend our right to disagree with each other. I went and saw it with one of my lefty friends, and I don't know about her, but when the end credits started to roll with the real-life news footage of Chris Kyle's funeral procession, I had tears in my eyes. The only other time I've seen that much red, white, and blue was in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. Walking out of the theater, the feeling of gratitude to be an American in America could only be described as visceral and all-consuming. I wanted to put on my Kerry '04 hat and my "IMPEACH BUSH" t-shirt and go out to find some overweight person with NRA, rebel cross, Pro-Life, Jesus fish, and "Lynch Obama" bumper stickers on the back of their Ford F150 and hold hands and wave American flags and spontaneously break into tearful renditions of "God Bless America" and "Battle Hymn of the Republic".

Except I didn't do any of that because the feeling probably lasted less than 4 seconds before I actually started thinking about (and not feeling) what I had just seen. By the way, I have no doubt that somewhere in small-town rural America, some kind of USA lovefest took place after the film ended. A great many white Republicans with a seventh-grade education may have experienced a strange sense of respect and nonpartisan gratitude towards our current Commander-In-Chief, Barack Hussein Obama, who also happens to simultaneously be Satan and an illegal alien from Kenya.

All that being said, most of the critics appear to be guilty of a priori contempt simply because Clint Eastwood sat in the director's chair. Even the usually excellent Matt Taibbi fell victim to this mindset in his Rolling Stone review (which I encourage everyone to read). In the review, Taibbi makes many good points about the distinctly American perception of war-as-virtuous. However, most of his arguments (and others' entire reviews) were built from an extremely superficial reading of the film. These reviews don't even look at the film from a technical perspective. Sure, some of the script seems a little heavy-handed (as is the case in most Eastwood films), but Bradley Cooper and Sienna Miller's performances are superlatively good. It is also worth noting that Cooper's bid as Chris Kyle received an Academy Award nomination, of which I think he entirely deserves (especially if you have read the book- more on that later).

Yes, American Sniper makes you god damn proud to be an American; if you watch it with the same level of discern that a nine-year old would watch a Michael Bay Transformers movie. But if you read between the lines and don't just take the ubiquitous red, white, and blue at face value, American Sniper is delivers a strong anti-war message. Interpreting the prominent placement of many American flags throughout the film as blind patriotism completely misses the point. Consider this: the most American thing you can do is burn a flag. Think about it.

Now for how I got this crazy notion that Clint Eastwood made a movie that doesn't glorify war:

The book vs. the movie

A lot has been said about Chris Kyle's penchant for telling "tall tales" (just Google "Chris Kyle liar" to see an exhaustive list of things he has been alleged or confirmed to have "embellished" in the book). I can't remember if the controversy was present at the time that I read it, but the subsequent fact-checking and debunking of some of Kyle's claims doesn't bother me at all personally, because I read every autobiography assuming some degree of unreliability in the narrator; you are getting their account and recollection of events from their perspective, which is the very definition of "subjective". This makes even more sense if you compare traditional memoirs/autobiographies to something like OJ Simpson's If I Did It, in which the reliability of the narrator to present a factual, nonfiction narrative is (ironically) implicitly confirmed by the disclaimer that the work is "hypothetical fiction".

I thought that the Chris Kyle of the book was a fairly unlikeable character. In simple terms, I thought he came off as a douchebag. Only a huge douchebag would write a book for the sole purpose of trying to convince the reader of how great a patriot/hero/'Murican he is. It's in the movie, but in the book I think the only piece of self criticism he offers is that he didn't kill more people. Really dude? How about the fact that you kept getting your extremely loyal wife pregnant and then dipping out on her... to go kill people? As for character development? Zero. He pretty much denies that war changed him because he was so convinced he was fighting the good fight and doing what needed to be done.

The movie is far better than the book because it actually turns Chris Kyle into a human being, not a walking Trace Adkins song. The film is intentionally subjective in its negative portrayal of Iraqis and lack of insight into the conflict as a whole because it is a movie based on an extremely one-sided memoir; the filmmaker is taking a story told in the first-person and preserving that same level of perspective telling the story in the third-person. You can see how combat affects the film's Kyle, even though he denies it every chance he gets. After each tour of duty, he becomes increasingly distant/emotionally withdrawn. You see the hypersensitivity, never ending state of over-alertness, and flat affect that can take place in combat veterans. Certain scenes (watching the TV that isn't even on/the rest of the birthday party, getting his blood pressure taken by the OBGYN, that super awkward scene where the guy thanks him) suggest post-traumatic stress disorder, but it isn't ever explicitly stated. Which is to be expected- Kyle has some very "traditional" ideals when it comes to gender roles and masculinity; talking about your feelings isn't one of them.

Chris Kyle : Mustafa :: Captain Ahab : Moby Dick
Edit: currently writing this on my phone from work, because apparently it's a thing among people nowadays to not show up for your job. But that's what's great about America, right?

Once again, I've found that one cannot perform literary analysis without referencing Herman Melville's Moby Dick. In American Sniper, the focus of the narrative becomes Kyle's obsessive quest to kill Mustafa, the elusive Syrian sniper (and former Olympian) who films his kills and puts them on YouTube. While only a very minor part of the book, in the film Eastwood characterizes him as evil incarnate; the ultimate boogeyman. He is the foil to Kyle's character; whereas Kyle always operates in an "overwatch" capacity giving cover fire and taking care of unseen threats for troops on the ground, Mustafa generally just sets up shop and shoots whoever he feels like shooting. It's "civilized" warfare (if there is such a thing) versus the savage and primitive nature of guerrilla insurgency.

With that in mind, Kyle's pursuit of Mustafa becomes an obsession- his time in Iraq isn't finished until he can kill Mustafa. If he fails, everything he has ever done will have been in vain; much like Captain Ahab's suicidal odyssey to kill "the Whale".

It's a different root of the same conceptual tree explored in recent films such as The Hurt Locker, where (if I'm not mistaken) the comparison is present from the title card; a quote about war being a drug. However, in American Sniper, these obsessive neuroses manifest themselves quite differently. Simply put, Chris Kyle has a god complex. That isn't a valid clinical diagnosis, but for the purposes at hand let's just consider it to be a kind of "altruistic narcissism"; Kyle believes that he can singlehandedly keep American soldiers alive. When he doesn't have a good line of sight as Marines are going door-to-door, he decides to take point in one of those squads (against orders I might add). Of course he is "The Legend"- he might as well be a god to all the guys doing the heavy lifting. It is this hubris that makes Kyle's sense of duty in completing his personal mission so powerful. It is also why the outcome doesn't have the intended effect.

The Shot
Couldn't think of a better name for this section. Kyle manages to kill Mustafa with a headshot delivered from over a mile away. The film's intensity building to this moment is palpable- you know he's going to make the shot, but you're gripping your seat anyway. He sees the pink mist through his scope. His buddy confirms the kill, and congratulates Kyle on killing the most ruthless insurgent sniper and achieving justice for all the troops he's killed. Kyle should be ecstatic at this point. This moment is what he has sacrificed so much for throughout the film. Except you see nothing but a man who is finally broken, completely empty, and defeated. It is at this point that he calls his wife to tell her he's "ready to come home". Soon afterwards, you get one of the most powerful scenes in the film- Chris Kyle leaves his rifle and pack on the ground. Not only is this the last thing a Navy SEAL would ever do (or any soldier- that's covered in basic), but there is that scene early on in the film where his father scolds him for putting his rifle on the ground, telling him to never do it again. This is the only time you see him put his rifle on the ground (uhhhh surrender symbolism for $500?) other than that flashback scene.

It's getting the promotion at work that you've convinced yourself will make everything right in your life. It's having a kid. It's graduating college. It's getting married. Or it's breaking down that incredible looking dope you spent all day pawning your possessions to get, finding the one vein in your arm that isn't collapsed, and pushing on the plunger.

Some of these examples offer more immediate reward than others, but not a single one of them brings true and lasting happiness in and of itself. Ultimately, they are just "things".

If you don't get anything else from this, always remember; coming from someone who spent a unfortunately large chunk of their life trying to find the ultimate chemical or behavioral cocktail to make me feel "happy" or "okay", I came to found that the only way to truly be happy is to place others' needs before my own. I need not to just have friends, but be a friend. I need to wake up everyday and try to not think about how I can have a good day, but what I can do to make sure the people around me have a good day. I could go on forever about this, but in short, true happiness and ego cannot coexist.

The ultimate message
Chris Kyle comes home and doesn't have the easiest time adjusting. After a number of incidents (a few mentioned above), he sees a psychologist/psychiatrist at the VA hospital. The doctor asks Kyle if he regrets anything, which he initially brushes off. He finally comes around to admitting that he regrets not having killed more people so that more US troops could have been saved. The doctor responds by telling him there are plenty of veterans back home that need saving.

Bottom line: Chris Kyle doesn't make peace with himself, his family, and his experiences until he begins to devote his life towards selflessly helping other veterans in need. Killing enemy combatants doesn't save lives; it slowly kills the person who pulled the trigger. Suicide kills more US soldiers/veterans than combat operations. The greatest risk to a soldier's life isn't an enemy sniper or an improvised explosive device; it is their own mind, and how what they experience in war tears it apart.



Anti-war messages don't get any more potent than this one.